


Show Me The Way

by CoyoteGhost



Series: Devotion [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Ana loves Jesse like a son, Blackwatch Era, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Blackwatch Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Bullying, Explicit namecalling, Jesse has ADD and no one can convince me otherwise, Jesse protects little Fareeha, Jesse sees snow for the first time, M/M, Protective Reyes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 02:07:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16108556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoyoteGhost/pseuds/CoyoteGhost
Summary: If he died protecting some plushie-wielding little girl that looked like Captain Amari, then by golly, he would go out with a bang.OrJesse, despite the attempts to domesticate him, still has a few tricks up his sleeve.





	Show Me The Way

How could so many good decisions lead to something so bad?

Truthfully, it depended on what one would call a good (or bad) decision. Jack would certainly call Reyes's little love affair a _very_  bad decision, but Gabe couldn't disagree more. It was hard not to love it when Jesse would worm his way into Gabriel's office, then his lap, and then eventually his bed. Besides, Jack could only speculate as to if he and Jesse were truly doing anything romantic. The Strike Commander was never very good at guessing what was going on behind the scenes of Blackwatch. Either that, or he turned a blind eye so he could have deniability. Ana, on the other hand, was a very different story. Put McCree and Gabriel in the same room, or even have them separate; either way, she would figure out the truth about them, whereas Jack could not.

Ana was irrefutably the smartest, wisest, and perhaps even the deadliest of all the founding members. Her intelligence and intuition were undeniable, and her sniping abilities were practically godlike. Maybe that's why she was so keen on meeting McCree. He could cleanly kill six men with the shitty old revolver he absolutely refused to get rid of, and he could pull off headshots just as well as Ana at close range (and amongst themselves, some would argue Jesse could do it even better). It was no easy feat. Under Gabriel's instruction, he was learning even more. His patience became stronger, his attention was less likely to be disrupted (he still had a _long_  way to go on that, though. God bless Gabriel's little ADD mess), and in his free time, Jesse experimented on how to reload while moving out of enemy fire. If worse came to worst, though, the kid just ended up decking someone and running.

All in all, Jesse was shaping up to be Gabriel's star, the sword with which his enemies would kneel before in judgement. Obedient, beautiful, deadly. He would never be called that, of course, would never know the others thought of him as Gabriel's weapon, but it was a generally acknowledged fact; to the other agents of Blackwatch, it was like stating that Jesse's hair was brown, or that he was a cowboy through and through, wild nature included. He was so much more unpredictable compared to the others, and that made him all the more dangerous. He had no military training, yet he was a brilliant tactician that surpassed many agents, and his instincts were unimpeachable. He was a threat. A massive one, if he ever decided to turn against them. They doubted he would ever leave, but the thoughts still lingered, and every single member of Blackwatch had an unanswered question that plagued them whenever they encountered Jesse; just _how_ exactly did he come to be such a double-edged sword, a harbinger of destruction?

The generally accepted theory was that despite being their rising star, their little prince, he was undeniably the calamitous progeny of Deadlock. No one knew just how long he had been in that gorge, just what atrocities he had been forced to commit. Perhaps he had done them willingly, but not even Gabriel knew. It was a heavy shroud that lingered over every one of Jesse's interactions; its effect lessened with each passing month, and with each proud, noble action that he had taken, but it was still there. Jack saw the darkness, Gabe and his agents did, too. The boy was a mystery, a puzzle to be solved, and the only person who didn't know that firsthand was Ana. Gabe knew Jesse appreciated Ana, sure, but killer or not, he was still a kid. Truth be told, he was absolutely terrified of her.

McCree was plagued by his one mistake regarding the Captain; he had blatantly disregarded her orders when she attempted to command him in a training sim. Now in Jesse's defense, it was when he had first arrived and he was a defiant little shit, and when the bullets starting raining down like Heaven's hellfire, he trusted himself more than some woman he'd never met trying to boss him from a holo-vid. That being said, when Ana had requested to meet him when Reyes's Strike Team transferred to Zurich, he nearly vomited on Gabe's carpet. It didn't take a rocket scientist to realize that the mischievous agents of Blackwatch had filled his head with stories of Amari's wrath, most of which were ghastly and cruel, and fear was a very poisonous thing.

Currently, Jesse was pacing back and forth, nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

"She's gonna kill me! She's going to shoot me or boil me alive or-"

"Where the hell did you get the boiling idea?" Gabe interrupted. He'd been watching the kid pace around the transport hangar for thirty minutes, and needless to say, it was almost pitiful how stressed he was. "If Sosa and Abbott told you that, they're just fucking with you. Unless she's learned how to turn human remains into tea. In that case, you're screwed."

Jesse shot him an exasperated look, pulling his bandana up to the bridge of his nose (a nervous habit that happened more often than not), then began to resume his pacing. Gabriel knew that this _technically_  being his first long-distance flight didn't really help the situation. The kid was afraid of flying, stating that no, he didn't care how advanced their technology was; a giant hunk of metal ought to not be able to fly. Every mission he had ever taken had been close to the Grand Mesa base (as guilty as Gabe felt for admitting it, Jesse _was_  a criminal, and if he ran away, it would be easier to find him if he were near the base instead of, say, Rialto), and he had only been okay with going to Arkansas because they spent more time traveling on the ground than they did in the sky. It also didn't help that he had been drugged out of his mind on the way from Santa Fe, thus making this his first true time flying. Gabe could tell Jesse was teetering on the edge of full-blown panic, but the worst of his pain was visibly diluted and concealed (most likely an attempt to hide his weaknesses), his emotions looking more like mildly anxious anger than anything.

The three agents on Reyes's Strike Team, accompanied by a few lower level soldiers, watched with great amusement, some of them making comments to themselves yet not daring to say them loud enough for McCree to hear. As generally stable as the kid was, everyone knew he wasn't above putting a round or two in someone's ass (with the exception of Reyes) when he was even remotely anxious. It was something everyone had learned to roll with, and on the field, the anxiety could occasionally be redirected into something useful. With McCree's already hyperactive senses, when a little too much adrenaline had been introduced, his perception and awareness skyrocketed. It could occasionally be hard to discern what was a real threat and what was a shadow making him jumpy, but normally it worked like a charm. This time, though, there was no threat, no enemy, and nobody knew how to properly redirect that fear. Gabe almost felt bad for the _bandana_  with how much it had been yanked on in the past few hours, but with the cloth now on his face, Jesse's hands were fiddling with his belt and the end of Peacekeeper.

Perhaps his agents didn't notice, didn't really even care, but Gabriel did, especially now that he was actually _watching_  McCree. Jesse, despite having the entire hangar, looked like a wounded animal cornered by wolves, movement sporadic and eyes wide. Speaking of eyes, with every passing moment, Jesse kept rubbing at his right one almost like it hurt. It seemed to be another nervous tic, an impulsive action that happened in the heat of the moment, but something about it made Gabriel nervous, like it was somehow a dangerous act. It signaled that McCree's controllability was sinking fast. With practically all of his nervous tics coming out to play, and with how he kept shooting almost aggressive looks towards the other agents (who were slowly starting to become wary of Jesse's actions), Reyes knew the situation was quickly spiraling into 'critical' territory. But how could he stop it?

As if reading both the atmosphere and Gabriel's thoughts, Giroux (the team's field medic with a notoriously low tolerance for any kind of bullshit) grabbed his bag and stood up.

"You still afraid of needles, McCree?" He didn't even bother to hear the answer as he started rummaging through his various supplies. As soon as the hypodermic needle came out of the bag, Gabe could practically _feel_ the fear thicken in the air; it rolled off the kid in suffocating, turbulent waves. Still, when Jesse began to bolt, Reyes stood from his resting place and grabbed Jesse by a strap on his chest armor, holding him firmly but not allowing the medic access.

"The hell are you trying to shoot him up with?" Gabe asked, his grip tightening as McCree tried to push away. "I understand that desperate diseases must have desperate remedies, but I need him alive, not getting lethal injections."

Giroux pulled out a small brown ampoule, removing the plastic packaging and small sheath at the end of the needle before stabbing in and pulling the plunger. A light, yellowish liquid began to swirl around gently.

"It's not a lethal injection, not today. It's Midazolam," said Giroux, "We use it frequently to swiftly sedate patients before surgery, and as long as I'm watching over him for side effects, he should be fine."

McCree was thrashing now. Although Gabriel could only see his eyes due to the bandana hiding the rest of his face (and even then, his hair covered almost down to his nose when not brushed aside), the anger was suddenly and genuinely stronger than the fear.

"Oh, fuck no!" he howled, trying his damn hardest to escape Gabe's grasp, "Don't you fucking dare!"

Gabriel almost felt bad as he flipped McCree around, tightly restraining his arms behind his back with one hand to prevent injury. The other hand firmly grasped the back of the kid's hair to keep his head from turning or slinging. Even a blind man could see that Jesse was beyond livid. Every single curse and nasty phrase that had ever existed in both Spanish (which surprised Gabriel) and English poured from his mouth, hardly muffled by the bandana slowly slipping back down to his neck. McCree had begun to fight as hard as he could. As carefully as possible, Gabe brought his lips to Jesse's ear, his voice coming out softly enough that only McCree could make out his words. Time to test his soothing skills.

"Come on, Jesse, easy now. Work with me," he whispered, "Don't fight with me, okay? Trust me. I'm not going to hurt you, and I won't let anyone else hurt you, either. Just relax, this is going to help you."

The few agents off to the side watched with bated breath, and Giroux stood by patiently. They certainly couldn't hear what Reyes was saying, only that he was coaxing Jesse. At least it seemed to be working; the fighting hadn't stopped completely, neither had the anger or fear, but everything was weaker than before.

"There you go, Jess. That's a good boy." Praise usually worked on McCree, right? Apparently so, as the young agent's body grew (mostly) still, his breathing remaining quick and his heart beating like a war drum, but trying so hard to stay calm.

"It's alright, you can relax," Reyes coaxed a bit more. Gingerly and with great caution, he let go of Jesse's hair, and felt a surge of relief as his head remained unmoving. As subtly as possible, he motioned for Giroux to come closer, speaking louder by just a smidge so the other could hear. "I'm going to pull up your sleeve, okay? There's going to be a little pinch, just like when we're with Angela and nurse Hudson. Giroux won't hurt you. Just relax, alright?"

Hearing his cue, the field medic slowly inched over to McCree. He gently prodded the kid's arm, feeling for the deltoid muscle under tense tanned skin. When he found it, after looking up to his commander and getting a nod of approval, he pushed in the needle as carefully and as painlessly as he could before injecting the drug into the muscle. The low, pained whine that McCree gave didn't escape Reyes's notice, nor did the way his skin was starting to get paler and more clammy the longer the needle was in him. When Giroux had emptied the syringe's contents and stepped away, Gabe completely let go of Jesse and helped him sit down on the cold hangar floor, carefully pushing him onto his back to help the coolness reach every part of his body. As gently as he could, Gabe began to message the location of the shot.

"How long until this shit kicks in, Giroux?" Gabriel asked. Abbott and Sosa had moved in closer, not yet coming completely over but close enough to react in case things went further south. The situation was still, if not more, dangerous than before, with a very pale Jesse almost hyperventilating on the concrete floor. They might've been his closest friends, but Gabriel was the only one with immunity in these situations.

"It starts working in ten minutes, but the full effect will probably take about fifteen to twenty," Giroux replied.

True to his word, about seven minutes in, Jesse began to lose a bit of tension in his body, and when the transport came in thirty minutes later, he was practically dead to the world. Although not completely asleep, he was incapable of moving, which meant Gabe had to hoist him over his shoulder (it earned some giggles from the team, how Jesse's arms dangled down the Commander's back like they'd seen little Fareeha's do) and carry him and his gear onto the shuttle. Once everything and everyone was ready, Gabe laid Jesse back down on the floor. Giroux sat down with him. He wasn't unlike Jesse as far as certain traits go; youthful glow, intelligent eyes, long, unruly hair. Confident and capable and kind. But of course, there were many ways they were different. His skin was like porcelain, his eyes as grey as storm clouds, and his hair was even blonder than Jack's, maybe nearing platinum. Still, Gabe couldn't help but draw the comparisons. It almost made him wonder how the two viewed each other. Giroux seemed fond enough of Jesse, and gently rolled McCree's shirtsleeve back down to cover the injection site.

"This will last anywhere from one to six hours, and-" Gabe shot him a look, "Hey, don't glare at me like that, I don't make the rules! Just make sure you keep him guarded and be there when he's coming to. He's going to be vulnerable; Midazolam keeps him from forming memories during this time, so he's not going to remember going from place to place. Don't make McCree panic anymore than he needs to."

With that being said, Giroux stood from his spot and made his way over to the group of other agents and sat down. Even from his desolate corner, Gabe could hear them telling exaggerated stories from missions past (one of which involved McCree picking up a live rattlesnake to use as a maraca), and he couldn't help but smile when he rolled his eyes. Jesse would be safe here, amongst people who had come to care about him and take him in as their own. From them, no harm would befall Jesse. Ana, however, might be a different story.

\-----

True to Giroux's word, after landing at the Zurich base a few hours later and getting settled in, Jesse was still out for the count. He appeared slightly less dazed, like he was beginning to finally metabolize the drug, but he probably wasn't going anywhere any time soon. It gave Gabriel enough time to make a few rounds. Besides, even if Jesse were to awaken before Reyes got back, he would be in Gabe's personal quarters; he would know whose room he was in at the very least.

The good thing about the commanders' quarters is that no matter what base you lived on, they pretty much looked the same. A few pieces of furniture and the layout of the kitchenette might be different, but everything else was unchanged. Gabriel kept his clothes in the same place in every base, kept the same standard issue soaps and other such products, so, in theory, Jesse would probably be able to navigate his way through the room. He always complained about the spartan ways in which Gabriel kept his room; basically bare walls, no little knickknacks, no souvenirs, no nothing. It probably looked like Hell comparison to Ana's room (he had gone back to residing in it after his isolation incident. The strike team had agreed that it would be better instead of the regular barracks or the small rooms set aside for the strike teams themselves), which had colorful blankets and exotic fabrics and furniture, along with items from Egypt and many of Fareeha's toys.

Gabe knew Jesse wouldn't admit it, but being surrounded by so much life and so many of the childish comforts he had been deprived of made him feel safe, calm, and perhaps even more loving to those around him. He had seen Jesse snuggled up in a mound of handmade blankets and at least six of Fareeha's stuffed animals; maybe, if he didn't keel over when he met Ana, he could eventually meet Fareeha, too.

Speaking of Ana, as soon as he entered the relatively empty cafeteria, she swooped up behind him like an owl, jabbing him straight in the ribs with her slender fingers. She laughed heartily as he choked on a strangled cry.

"If it isn't Gabriel!" she said happily, smiling and walking by his side as if she didn't just send him into cardiac arrest, "How are you, dear? How was your flight over? Also, where is the boy?"

"It was better before you tried to kill me," he muttered. He reached the drinks station and began to pour coffee for himself, "And trust me, you don't want to meet him right now. He's currently as high as a kite in a windstorm. Well, he should be, anyways."

The two of them sat down together, Gabriel drinking his coffee and Ana fiddling with her tablet. From his seat across from her, he could see a picture of Fareeha, Jack, and himself passed out on Ana's couch after a long day of tea parties and makeovers, Ana's mischievous face peaking out in the corner of the screen where she snuck into the picture. It made Reyes smile. What made him smile less, though, was the file that was pulled up on the tablet; Jesse's file.

"So, Gabriel," Ana began, her eyes flicking back up to look at his, "Tell me truly what I should expect from your new charge. McCree, wasn't it?"

For whatever reason, Gabe started to feel almost defensive over Jesse.

"I don't know what shit Jack's put on his file, I don't know how much he _thinks_ he knows," he started, "But you can't make any assumptions about McCree's character from what's written there. He's a good kid, Ana, and he's done nothing but work his ass off for nearly the entirety of his stay."

Ana's lips twitched upwards as she read over McCree's file for herself, listening to every word Gabriel had to say. He wasn't wrong when he said Jack had put down a lot of negative behavioral issues, and he made a point in writing down (in detail) his many, many previous crimes. Yet after the second or third month, everything was basically clean. He had no fighting charges, no conflicts, no bad behaviors to report. There even seemed to be some praise from the medical team about his positive attitude and cooperation during treatments. He really seemed to be what Gabriel was trying to sell to her.

"I believe you," Ana said. She sat her tablet down and took one of Reyes's hands in her own. "Trust me, I believe you. One cannot judge a person by their pasts, least of all a young man who seems to be striving very hard to make amends for his misdeeds. My only question is, why is he drugged?"

At the questioning of McCree's current state (and after being reassured that Ana probably wouldn't boil the kid like he'd feared), Gabriel began to crack up. He had just begun to tell her that Jesse was scared of flying when a rather distressed Sosa practically fell over herself in an attempt to run towards him faster.

"Sorry, sir, forgive me for interrupting," she started, "But there's, uh, there's a bit of a problem. We tried to fix it, we really did, but-"

Before she could even finish, a very bleary, wobbly McCree entered the cafeteria, followed along by Abbott, trying desperately to reason with him. Jesse looked dead on his feet. It was a little bit pathetic with how much he basically dragged himself around, if only through sheer force of will. With a _long_ , resigned sigh, Gabriel watched as Jesse completely ignored Abbott in favor of grabbing a prepackaged bowl of cereal, a carton of milk, and a spoon. Then, without so much as a look in Abbott's direction, he sat unceremoniously on the floor, just a few feet from the entrance with his back against the wall. If Gabriel didn't want to bash his head in from embarrassment, he might've found the situation funny.

"Just," he paused, eyes closed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, "What the hell, Sosa? The kid, _at most_ , weighs 170 pounds soaking wet, not to mention he's sedated."

"I know, sir, but-"

Ana burst out laughing, loud enough to startle both Gabriel and Sosa. Her entire body trembled as she hooted and howled from her spot, hands wrapped around her stomach, cheeks reddening. Tears had started to form in her eyes. Now Gabriel _really_ wanted to die.

"Oh, goodness," Ana said once she had stopped and caught her breath. She wheezed a little laugh whenever she looked over at Jesse, who busied himself with shoving cereal in his mouth while Abbott paced around him, fussing at him for getting milk on his clothes.

"This boy is precious! Where have you been hiding him? Better yet, _why_? Oh, look at him!" She pointed at him as he held his spoon with his mouth, sitting his bowl down to take the napkins Abbott had gotten for him in both hands. "He's just so adorable! Let's go over and meet him, Gabriel!"

Reyes felt helpless as Ana dragged him over to where McCree was propped up. The kid was disheveled, looking like he had literally rolled out of bed, fell to the floor, and then struggled to get back up. It was probably exactly what had happened. His chest armor was off, thankfully, and he had changed into some sweatpants and a very large black sweatshirt with some long-forgotten band's logo on the front. Jesse was, as always, barefoot. His eyes were glassy still from the drug in his system, and honestly, it made Gabriel feel uneasy; he was used to seeing those same eyes flit around the room, sharp and intelligent, taking in every detail that they could possibly find. He didn't like the lethargy. Still, maybe it was better that Ana meet him like this first instead of when he was running on all cylinders, so that way neither he nor Gabe would be embarrassed as much (thankfully, he could blame any imminent fuck-ups on the drugs).

"Hello there, McCree," Ana chirped softly, "It's very nice to finally meet you!"

For a moment, Jesse only blinked owlishly up at them. He _had_ been ignoring Abbott pretty hard, so maybe he was having a hard time with comprehension?

"Holy shit," Jesse said suddenly, almost reverently, "You, you're a-" Jesse paused, his jaw slightly dropped as if amazed, "You've gotta be an angel. Ain't never met a lady so nice."

Gabriel let out a mortified groan as Ana turned red, laughing like a happy schoolgirl. Why the fuck did McCree have to be a flirt even when drugged?

" _Dios dame paciencia_ ," he muttered softly, because if he didn't get some patience, he might choke Abbott, Sosa, _and_ McCree all in one go. As he spoke, Jesse jerked his head in his direction, eyebrows raised as if he were surprised. Was he... intrigued? Gabe wouldn't get to know, because Ana pulled him up into a tight hug before he could say anything.

"You're so precious!" she practically squealed, "I cannot _wait_ to meet you when you aren't loopy. Gabriel, go take care of this boy, and tell me when he sobers up!"

With a gentle shove, Ana pushed Jesse into Gabe's arms, and with a wave of her hand and a smile, she grabbed her tablet and left the room. Reyes let out a sigh.

"Abbott, Sosa, clean up Jesse's mess," he instructed, hoisting a fussy McCree over his shoulder like he had done before. Without waiting for a response, he skulked out of the cafeteria and into the halls, walking as swiftly as he could back to his own quarters.

\-----

It took a full night of rest for Jesse to finally feel better, and when he had learned the next morning what he had said and done, he practically buried his head into the pillows with shame.

"You should've killed me!" he cried from Gabe's blankets.

Reyes rolled his eyes, lacing up his boots with practiced ease. "Stop being so fucking dramatic, Jess," he fussed, pulling the covers off of Jesse and throwing him his pants, "If anything, she likes you more now that you've kissed up to her."

McCree shot him a glare as he took the pants and hopped reluctantly out of bed. From the kitchenette, the scent of coffee, bacon, eggs, and toast wafted through the air, and Gabriel grabbed a hearty serving as he settled down at the small kitchen table, tablet in hand. He had a few emails from Jack, most of which were complaints about paperwork or Blackwatch's budget. Some were from his agents; the remaining members of his Strike team were in Rialto, and were on their way back with vital information on the terrorist group, Talon. Jesse had never met the rest of the strike team, only Abbott, Sosa, and Giroux, so it would be interesting to see how they would react to each other. The last and newest email was from Ana. Shit.

  
_**From: Amari, Ana  
Subject: Agent J. McCree - Trial Run** _

_**Gabriel,  
Meeting Jesse was lovely, but I would like to see his full potential. I have been reading more on his file and checking the data banks, and it seems he is a phenomenal marksman. If you would allow it, please bring agent McCree to the shooting range at 0900 hours with his gun of choice. Thank you!** _

_**Captain Ana Amari  
Overwatch Proper** _

  
"What's that?"

Gabe nearly jumped out of his skin as McCree hovered over his shoulder, eyebrow raised in question as he shoved toast down his throat.

"Ana wants to meet you for real this time, at the shooting range," Gabe said, "And stop eating over me, you're getting crumbs on my shirt."

Truthfully, when he had said that, Reyes had thought that Jesse would be a whole lot more panicked than he currently was. Instead of being anxious, though, McCree looked _excited_. As quickly as he could, the kid yanked his shirt on and pulled on his boots, tying his now-signature bandana around his neck as he practically bounced towards the door with unadulterated glee. When Gabe managed to catch his eye and look at him questioningly, Jesse's grin widened even more.

"Captain Amari is the best sniper in all of Overwatch, if not the entire world, and she wants to see _me_ shoot!" He was practically beside himself with joy.

"Weren't you about to puke on my carpet yesterday because you were so afraid of her?" Gabe asked as he stood, throwing on his signature black hoodie and beanie. He found McCree's gun, but he kept it attached to his own belt instead of giving it to its owner (for liability purposes, he didn't let the kid carry it unless it was on a mission or when they were being shipped out somewhere).

Jesse only laughed. "Once I realized she wasn't an evil boss lady who would make me into human tea, I thought she was pretty cool! And just pretty in general," he added.

Without much delay, the two began to make their way to the shooting range. McCree's mouth was running a mile a minute, talking about how much he'd heard Jack, Gabe, and basically every other agent say on Ana's behalf, or about how Torbjörn had managed to fix up Peacekeeper a bit to make her more comfortable, or about how Reinhardt had taught him to repair his armor a certain way out on the field until he could get it professionally repaired. As they entered the enclosed breezeway, Gabriel could see the flash of white teeth and the way Jesse's cheeks flushed with laughter from the corner of his eye, and he could help but grin.

McCree was... happy.

Truth be told, this was probably the happiest he had ever seen the kid. He had grown so much, it was hard to believe that he had only been there almost a year from all the progress. Gabe was proud, and he was about to say so when he realized something; everything had turned quiet, and Jesse was no longer by his side. Stopping quickly, Reyes turned around behind him and started to search with a sense of urgency. It honestly didn't take too long, and suddenly Gabriel didn't even have to wonder why the kid had stopped to begin with.

In the middle of the breezeway, eyes wide and jaw absolutely dropped, stood Jesse McCree. The world outside was a winter wonderland. Everything was blanketed in a thick layer of snow, and it continued to pour at a steady pace as the wind whipped it every which way. Under the brilliant morning sun, the snow glistened like a thousand tiny diamonds. McCree's expression had such a childlike wonder, as if he'd never truly seen the world before, that Gabriel couldn't help but think of Fareeha.

"What is that stuff?" So Jesse really _didn't_ know what snow was. Reyes smiled, leaning against the glass beside McCree without blocking his view.

"You've probably heard of snow before, but I'm assuming you've never seen it. I guess you never would've been able to, considering it stopped snowing in Santa Fe and most of New Mexico about two or so decades ago."

With a wonderstruck look still plastered onto his face, Jesse moved so close to the glass that his nose brushed against it, and his breath came out in a small cloud of white.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, cocking his head to the side. Reyes could see the absolutely joyful curiosity that filled his eyes when he looked over briefly, then flitted back to the world outside. "It kinda looks like a really white sandstorm. It's beyond pretty, though!"

Gabe laughed. "It doesn't really hurt as long as you bundle up and you don't stay out too long in it." As he gently sat his hand on Jesse's shoulder, redirecting his attention back to Gabe, he added, "And I'll tell you what. Let's you and I make a deal. You do good for Ana and I'll take you outside so you can see it for real. Sound good?"

Jesse looked like a bobble head with how fast he was nodding. Like a bolt of lightening, he took off down the halls with joyous laughter, and Gabriel smiled as he followed along quietly.

\----

When Jesse practically burst into the shooting range, out of breath and flashing a coyote’s grin, Ana could only laugh and smile fondly. Reyes came in a few seconds later. He had walked a bit faster than normal to keep up, but he sure as hell didn't run.

"I see you've recovered, agent McCree!" she praised, watching as the boy came up to her but stood a respectable distance away, gingerly holding out his hand.

"It's real good to meet you, ma'am," he said, gently shaking her hand as she took his, "Well, I reckon we met twice before now, but I wasn't really in a good place either time."

Jesse took his hand back and rubbed his neck sheepishly. His cheeks were tinged with a bashful shade of pink as he said, "I kinda wanna apologize for both times. I was a little scared when you tried to train me, and yesterday I was a little drugged because I don't like flying. So really, ma'am, I'm terribly sorry."

Gabe could see Ana was practically radiating joy, even from a distance. As quickly as he could, Reyes gently pulled McCree over and got his gun and holster situated, listening as Ana praised and cooed over how polite he was and how well Gabriel had trained him.

"Oh, I believe Fareeha will absolutely adore you!" she cried, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze, "But do not let me pressure you into anything, alright?"

"You ain't pressuring me none, trust me, and who's Fareeha?" Jesse asked. He smiled at Gabe once the holster was in place, quietly thanking him with the simple action. Well, simple but undeniably meaningful.

As soon as Gabriel had become intimate with Jesse, it was as if every look held a new meaning only they could discern. It was hard not to be able to know each other so well, to nearly trust each other completely; it was as if a bridge had been built between them, and they could come and go as they pleased from each other's hearts and minds. It was their own personal language, the one that Jesse had taught him. But Ana, she was sharp enough to decode a language like theirs, even if she didn't know the words, and as Gabriel nodded to McCree in acknowledgment, he could only hope Ana wouldn't notice. She seemed to ignore it in lieu of chatting to Jesse.

"Fareeha is my daughter! She can be a bit rambunctious, but with how Commander Reyes describes you, I'm certain you two could keep up with each other. She's been acting a bit disheartened and odd lately, so I'm certain she could use a companion."

Jesse once again appeared sheepish, but his happiness rolled off of him in warm, gentle waves. It was like bathing in golden sunlight on a cool summer day, and both Gabriel and Ana found peace and a sense of rejuvenation in that feeling.

"I would love to meet her! I think I've stolen some of her stuffed animals, though," he admitted shyly as he reverently handled his gun, placing bullets in all six chambers. Once that was done and the safety was on, Jesse placed Peacekeeper back in her holster, smiling up at Ana. "I'm all set if you are, ma'am!"

The captain grinned and placed a hand on McCree's arm, walking with him towards the true entry of the shooting range, the part not covered in bulletproof glass like the room they were currently in. But suddenly, Ana looked around with a small frown on her face.

"Ah," she stated, snapping her fingers together as if she remembered something, "I left my practice rifle in the break room inside of the gym. I must have forgotten it when I was teaching Fareeha some self-defense. Jesse, would you be a dear and fetch it for me? You run faster than Gabriel and I. We're old and brittle!"

All three of them laughed, and with a nod, Jesse practically pranced out of the room. Eager to please, it seemed. Almost automatically, Ana turned to face Gabe.

"You've spoiled the boy," she began. Her voice had lost most of its over-expressive tones, reverting back to seriousness while still managing to hold motherly kindness. “But if your goal has been obedience, you have done very, very well."

"I didn't have a 'goal'." Gabriel tried not to sound defensive. It would certainly raise a red flag. "This is more than any of us could've hoped for. He listens, he's loyal, and above all else, he's clever enough to work without me having to babysit him. You know how some agents are; they can't move an inch without being told to do so. McCree just _knows_."

Ana appraised him for a moment, her seemingly all-seeing eyes picking him apart layer by layer.

Well, fuck.

Reyes knew for sure now that she had picked up on their subtle communications. A smile could've easily be just that; a smile. But the hidden meaning had been there, and it had been detected. This time, Jesse had (luckily) conveyed just a simple message: 'Thank you for caring for me.' It revealed nothing of their true intimacy, just that they cared for one another. Much in the same way, Ana didn't know to what extent their bond had increased, but she knew for sure that it had.

That was a topic that could be discussed another time, though. For the time being, the two sat in companionable silence, Reyes soothed by Ana's presence and the quiet peace that both of them seldom had. As minutes ticked on, however, Gabriel started to become worried.

"He should be back by now," he said, and Ana nodded along with him.

"Maybe he got lost. This _is_ his first time at this base. Perhaps it was unwise to send him on an errand, but that's all the more reason why we should go find him. Let's go, Gabriel."

And so began the search. The two wandered down the halls quickly and decisively, not going down any hallways that seemed like a dead end. McCree was smart enough to work his way back to the shooting range, Gabriel reasoned, so regardless of where he was, something was holding him up. The gym was as good a place as any to look, considering it had been the intended location, and sure as the world Jesse was standing smack dab in the middle of the room. What neither Ana nor himself had expected to see were two Overwatch agents, obviously very frustrated, and a young Fareeha hiding behind Jesse's legs, an owl plushie held painfully tight in her hands. McCree had his arm stretched out slightly, preventing Fareeha from going forwards (from the way she stood behind him, she wasn't going anywhere) or from the agents getting any closer to them.

All Gabriel could see was red.

Furious and seething, he started to rush in, but he was almost rendered speechless as Ana held him back. She was watching like a hawk, ready and completely willing to run in if things escalated too far, but with one look from Ana, he suddenly understood why he had been stopped; if they interfered right now, the Overwatch agents could very easily pin whatever was going down on Jesse instead of telling the truth. He was a criminal, he was Blackwatch, and most damnably, he currently had his gun on him. Fareeha wasn't a good enough witness (she was only a child), but if Gabriel and Ana listened in, they could make a damn good case for McCree. Thankfully, it seemed only one of the Overwatch agents would be getting pinned for the confrontation. One of them stood close by, ready to fight, but the other one (it looked like a young cadet) was off to the side looking painfully uncomfortable. Like that agent, Gabriel and Ana stood by and watched.

"Step down, McCree, this isn't any of your concern," the other agent, a young and seemingly arrogant man, said as he stepped a bit closer. His posture screamed pride and overconfidence, puffed up like a rooster (Gabe rolled his eyes. Typical Overwatch). But Jesse? Jesse was a different story. He practically _snarled_ as he pushed Fareeha further behind him. Even from a distance, Gabriel could see the sinister glint of Jesse's teeth, his breathing slightly erratic from his anger. Reyes had seen the results of fights that had started out like this. He had witnessed the subtle changes in Jesse's posture, the shift in his mental perspectives. He had seen the way that McCree stared down his target and tore into them without mercy, without stopping until one of them was dead. It was Deadlock's beast without a collar or chain, and once again, the situation was reaching critical.

"It became my concern when you started picking on a _little girl_. What the hell is wrong with you?" he hissed. "How pathetic do you gotta to be? What's she even got that you want? Or are you just a sick bastard who gets off on making a kid feel defenseless?"

That really seemed to set the agent off. From where they were standing, Gabe managed to catch Fareeha's attention and motioned for her to run. And run she did. As soon soon as she bolted, the Overwatch agent burst forward as if to catch her, but a _very_ pissed McCree shoved himself straight into the other man, knocking him back a good few feet. With Fareeha safely in her mother's arms, Ana picked up her daughter and nodded to Gabe as she quietly left the room. He was the sole witness now.

When Gabriel turned back, he could see both Jesse and the other man circle each other like predators. They sized each other up, taking in anything that could be a weakness, but the fight was suddenly cut short. The Overwatch agent stepped aside.

"You're pathetic," he said, spitting at McCree as he turned to walk away, "And besides, you wouldn't get punished for fighting. We all know you're Reyes's little whore. We all see the way you drool at his heels like a fucking dog. How many times have you slept with him, huh? How many times have you rolled onto your fucking back for him, let him have his way with you like a little bitch in heat?"

To Jesse's credit, he stood stock still, and his facial expression shifted from a remorseless beast into something akin to boredom. He shifted his weight a little to one foot, picking as his nails as if he were waiting in the lunch line. Watching, waiting, biding his time. The only thing that gave away any of his building rage was the way he started to rub at his right eye, just as he did before having to be sedated.

"Maybe we shouldn't be talking about beating down little whores. What would your brother think of that?" Gabriel watched as the retreating agent froze in his spot, jerking to a stop so violently that his body almost fell backwards.

"What was his name? Jonah, I believe. A male prostitute, and pretty little thing if you ask me. What a sad way to go, though. You think he felt them bash in his skull? I'm willing to bet he pissed himself outta fear." A sadistic grin slipped onto Jesse's face as the agent, completely and utterly overtaken and blinded by rage, ran towards him at full speed. But McCree seemed almost relaxed. From where Reyes was standing, he could see a disturbing glint in Jesse's right eye, as if a flicker of red desert sand had blown across its normally earthen landscape, and before anyone could take another breath, Jesse reacted. It was as if he knew what was happening before it had even occurred; he managed to skillfully dodge and even trip the agent before bringing up his foot and kicking the man square in the face.

Flawless, and all in under ten seconds.

The Overwatch agent let out a garbled cry before falling onto his ass, blood pouring from his mouth, his nose, and even one of his eyes. The other agent, the one that had been watching uncomfortably during the fight, practically shrieked as she tried to make her way to her friend's side. Jesse wouldn't let her. A firm glare kept her at a distance. With her off to the side, McCree slammed his foot back down onto the man's sternum as he attempted to get back up. A loud crack, then a wail of pain; a rib had been broken. Reyes could see the agent's lips move as if mumbling some sort of desperate prayer, his skin starting to turn a nauseous shade of green as he struggled under the boot. Pathetic, like a trapped little bug.

What he didn't seem to realize was what Jesse truly embodied, what calamitous being his body held captive for the rest of the world. A being that was now unchained. It was a warrior's spirit, a wild beast imprisoned in human flesh by metaphysical means. He was a god of the merciless sand and the blood that it had swallowed up; from their empty vessels he fed the fires of wrath, and he scattered their ashes like a sacrificial offering to his Mother, the Sun. Jesse was not, nor would he ever be, a man of mercy.

Again, the silence was broken by an agonizing snap of another rib, maybe two, and the begging of the man on the floor began to increase. Gabriel already knew that nothing could pay the toll that retribution demanded. Every bone in that man's body couldn't atone for his unforgivable sin. But bless the poor cadet, an innocent bystander in this war. She didn't seem to know what to even _do_ in a situation like this, let alone how to stop Jesse from killing the man on the floor.

Thank God Gabriel did.

"Stand down, McCree." Reyes was honestly surprised at the evenness of his voice, how his shock was so well-concealed that it might not even exist at all. "That's enough."

Jesse seemed genuinely stunned when he heard Gabriel speak up, and he stepped off his prey as his Commander came closer.

The agent on the ground, despite his agony, sneered up at his attacker. "Stand down, McCree," he repeated through his bleeding lips. Before Jesse could even react, Gabriel himself bore his own teeth and slammed his boot down on the man's hand, effectively silencing any more smartass comments.

"Oh, uh," McCree stuttered, turning his face away from Gabe, "I didn't see you there. Uh, sorry for all of... _that_."

"Don't apologize," Gabe muttered. He firmly grabbed the kid by his shoulder, keeping him in place as he told the cadet (poor thing was as pale as a sheet and shaking like a leaf) to take the Overwatch agent to the med bay. She hurriedly agreed, and dragged the man with her as quickly as possible.

And then there were two.

Despite being alone, Jesse adamantly kept his face turned away from Gabe. In fact, most of his body was positioned towards the other side of the gym. He could see how McCree's hands trembled (they _never_ did that) and how his skin was getting progressively clammier as the seconds ticked by. What was this kid's problem? With a firm hand, Gabriel moved Jesse's body back to where he could see it.

Oh, that was his problem.

Blood flooded heavily from his nose, and his eye looked painfully bloodshot, which was enough to make Reyes concerned about his health. Although his left eye was open, the right was partially closed, as if it were an unbearable burden to keep it open all the way. It looked like Jesse had taken a direct hit to the face, but Gabe would bet all of his sweatshirts and beanies that McCree hadn't been struck even once. He had watched the entire fight and no damaging blow had been dealt to the kid. He also knew that he hadn't been bleeding at all before Reyes and Ana had arrived, as the fight hadn't yet escalated to that point.

"We're going to the infirmary," Gabe said, firmly grabbing Jesse's arm as he pulled him along, "And you're going to explain what the fuck I just witnessed."

\----

"Ow, shit! Cut that out," McCree hissed. Giroux pulled Jesse's eyelid back again, bringing his little light back up to check. He did it one last time before putting the flashlight back in his pocket and giving his patient a gentle pat on the shoulder. He looked indescribably tired.

"I can't find anything wrong with him, Commander. The only problems are what we know already, which is the nosebleed, irritation of the eye, and a migraine," the medic said, pushing back on Jesse's forehead while the kid held toilet paper to his nose. "He seems to check out, but call me if you see his symptoms worsening or if anything unusual happens."

"Thank you for your time, Giroux," Gabe said. He felt equally as tired as his medic, and they both shared an exhausted look before Giroux departed from the room.

Jesse winced as the door slammed. With one hand up to his nose and the other clamped tightly over his right eye, he fell back onto his bed. A low groan escaped as a shard blade of golden light came through the blinds, and he moved ever so slightly to get out of range.

"I know your head is splitting in two, but seriously, I need to know what happened," Gabe stated. He sat down on the edge of the bed, and with gentle hands, began to rub small, soothing circles on Jesse's thigh. He could feel a small amount of tension leave his body.

For a long while, they sat in silence until McCree's nose stopped bleeding. Jesse sure as shit wasn't getting up (Reyes doubted he could even if he wanted to), and all of the bloody tissue paper felt unsanitary, so Gabriel took the tissues into the bathroom and threw into the waste basket. He might as well get something to scrub Jesse down with while he there. As Gabe took a cloth and soaked it in warm water, he couldn't help but think. Why was Jesse wounded in the first place? He _knew_ the kid hadn't been hit, Giroux had confirmed that, but there he was, curled up in a miserable little ball with blood staining his face and his eye practically rendered useless. It only led Gabriel to one really lame, vague conclusion; this had to be related to him rubbing his eye under pressure.

It sounded stupid, even to Reyes, but it seemed like the only thread connecting the bad habit to the current situation. Whenever Jesse was extremely stressed and/or angry, he would start rubbing his eye more and more, and everybody had just chalked it up to being another one of his funny little tics. It always made for good jokes once the situation was defused, but what happened when the situation _remained_ stressful? What happened if the stimuli wasn't taken away and Jesse wasn't allowed to calm down? They hadn't yet ventured down that avenue. As least not until today, it seemed. Still, what did Jesse have to say about this? Did he even _know_ what had happened to him? Fuck, the longer he thought about it, the more Gabriel's mind became muddled with 'maybes' and 'what ifs'. If he weren't already a smoker, this would’ve caused him to start.

"Sit up, kid," Reyes commanded as he came back into the room. He waited for a moment, and when McCree didn't move, he just rolled his eyes and yanked him up by the arm. A loud groan filled the air as Gabriel kneeled down in front of the bed and started to scrub away the stains on Jesse's skin. "And start talking."

Jesse seemed reluctant at first. He was wholly content on letting Gabe wash his face, but he sighed and rubbed at his raw eye.

"What do you want to know first?"

Gabriel thought for a moment while he smacked Jesse’s hand away from his eye. He considered asking about the cause of his wounds, but chose a different topic instead. 

"How did you know about that kid's brother?"

Jesse shrugged. "The agent was on Jack's team for the Arkansas mission. I overheard a bunch of the others talking about his brother's death."

As fucking sadistic as that was, Gabriel couldn't help but feel a twinge of pride. Jesse was ever resourceful and cunning. Jack had said later after that mission that McCree was simply biding his time while the Overwatch agents talked shit, and it didn't make sense to neither Gabriel nor Jack that he wouldn't attack them. It was a clever move on Jesse's part. 

With that settled away, Reyes turned his attention back into the more important topic. 

"What the hell was that little party trick of yours? Why are you all busted up?"

For a moment, Jesse kept silent. He turned his head away as he talked, words coming out slow and reluctant.

"They used to call it Deadeye. That was a really cruel joke on their part,” he began. "It's... a blessing, and a curse. Sometimes I'm not really sure."

Deadeye? What the hell was that? What did that have to do with anything that just went on? As if reading his thoughts, Jesse slowly opened his bad eye (it really did look painful) and continued.

"I don't remember much of my life outside of Deadlock. Sure as hell don't remember my parents, but old King-" Gabriel recognized that name, some of his spies had said it was the man Jesse's gang answered to. "He said that it was a gift, something my pa passed down to me. Said it gave us the ability to see the dead, or in his words, ‘who'd be killed when the sun reached the highest point in the sky’. Corny old man. Seems like bullshit to me, ‘cause it works any time during the day."

Unwilling to stand in the fear that Jesse would stop rambling, Gabriel positioned himself comfortably on the floor. This was... a lot to take in, actually. In all of his life, he'd never even _heard_ of something like this. He had been to nearly every country, talked to millions of people, seen hundreds and hundreds of doctors and scientists work on enhancing the human body (he himself was proof of that), but what Jesse said he had - this Deadeye ability - was something he had been born with.

"How does it work?" Gabe found himself asking, and he nearly cursed himself for speaking. He didn't want the information to stop.

Still, the question didn't seem to bother Jesse. "I'm not really sure just _how_ it works if we're talking medical stuff. Time just seems to slow down. But before that, my head starts to feel like you pumped it full of water, and let me tell you, it hurts like a bitch. Shit, the first time it happened, I thought I was dying. My damn _eye_ started to bleed, not just my nose!" Despite the apparent trauma, Jesse laughed at his past self. The grimace that graced his face meant that laughing clearly hurt his head. Still, he ducked his head down as rubbed his neck sheepishly, a smile still lingered on his lips.

"I, uh, try not to use it. For obvious reasons," he continued, "And I honestly thought it only worked when I was shooting. But today proved I could use it outside of that, too."

"Why haven't you used it before today?" Gabe asked.

Jesse shrugged. "Honestly, I thought I lost Deadeye after I joined. I never felt it lingering in my skull, not like it used to. After that shootout with your men, it just kinda... disappeared."

The shootout with his men? What the hell was he talking about, and how the hell would it help Jesse in that situation?

Without warning, the realization hit Gabriel like a brick house on his chest, and he couldn't find it in himself to care as the shock overtook his face. He could remember finding his agents after the Deadlock sting, when he had dragged McCree in for questioning. He could still see those bullet wounds, how they marked their targets with deadly precision. Gabriel had been correct in thinking that Jesse was some form of monstrous beast trapped inside of a human body. Deadeye just seemed to be the most devastating way it could free itself.

It seemed like a ritual, like an exchange of human flesh and blood. The bearer of Deadeye was blessed by Death itself; its frigid, gentle lips grazed over the eyes of its chosen lover, a marriage to the living soul, a way to produce a bastardous progeny. When Death gave its lover the ability to see its icy hand, to even _choose_ which souls it took, it only asked for one thing in return; the blood of the bearer and the body of the ones that had been slain. When Gabriel thought about it, Jesse was the perfect choice for this union. His Mother, the glorious Sun, had betrothed her son to Death, told him to kill when she was at her peak in the sky so that she might watch over him. Jesse more than happily obliged.

Despite it all, despite the danger, Gabriel couldn't help but love Jesse. In many ways, he was Death's messenger; he understood its sweet kiss, had become familiar with its companionship over the years. He chose who lived and died, even if he didn't have a gift like McCree did.

Gabriel smiled. How beautiful it was, that it wasn't Life that had brought them together.

**Author's Note:**

> ABOUT TIME I POSTED SOMETHING. Please, feel free to point out any grammatical or spelling errors!


End file.
